


The Maiden

by CopperRose



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Cunnilingus, Don't ask me what time period this is supposed to be set in because I have no idea, Drowning, Like just in general, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monster Nathan Explosion, Trans Male Character, Trans Pickles the Drummer, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Sacrifice, Written while I was very drunk and very tired, enjoy, i guess?, i have no idea how to tag this, no one actually dies, should i tag that?, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperRose/pseuds/CopperRose
Summary: Each year a Maiden is chosen to be given to the sea god as it's bride, though no offering seem to have pleased it yet.In spite his numerous protest, Pickles has been chosen to be the next Maiden.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	The Maiden

“This is bullshit!” Pickles snapped. “How can you let them do this to me?”

Under normal circumstances, he might have been more careful about what language he used in front of his mother but considering the fact that he only had a few hours left to live, he figured he might as well let it all out.

Molly paid him very little mind. She was busy at work finishing the horrible gown that she had all but sewed onto him. For what must have been at least the fourth time, her needle “slipped” and he was jabbed in the side. She muttered a non-apology but kept on her work.

This was miserable and humiliating.

He looked to a large mirror in front of him. It allowed him to get a good look at the dress; white, as any good wedding dress should be, and formfitting to show off all the features he had tried to hide for so many years. It was short in the front, stopping a little above the knees, but cut long in the back; meant to give an illusion of elegance while also giving easy access for his “wedding night.” Then there was his hair, long and red and normally so messy, it had been washed and combed and pull into a crown braid and of course they had forced him to shave his face as well to look the part. The look was finished with a single white lily woven into the braid.

It was almost modest in how minimalistic the look was and, of course, it fit tradition to a T. Traditional in every way; white to show that the “bride” was a “maiden,” the dress made by his mother’s own hands to symbolize her giving him away, a lily to mourn the life he will leave behind. And the ceremony would be just as traditional, food, dancing, fond farewells from people that didn’t really give a shit about him.

Just the right amount of pretending before they tied him up and chucked him into the ocean.

Because this wasn’t some normal bullshit wedding, this was a sacrifice. Pickles had the “honor” of being chosen as this year’s Maiden, in spite the fact that he has refused anything to do with womanhood since he was a child, in spite the fact that he didn’t want this in any way, in spite the fact that there were countless women who would have proudly taken the leap he so desperately wants to run from. No, men with far more power then him decided that he was a worthy sacrifice, that this would be the year the sea god would accept their offering.

It hasn’t happened in his life time and in fact there had never been a case where the Maiden was accepted by the supposed god. So the story goes, they will know the Maiden was accepted should her body not return to their home’s shores. So far, every woman they had ever thrown off the high cliff into the ocean below had washed back up within a few days, often with a look of abject horror on their faces and half eaten by whatever was out there in the water. The idea that Pickles would be anything other then another corpse in a few days was baffling and he was half convinced that the tribunal that picked the Maiden each year was just a bunch of creepy old men who got off on throwing chicks in the ocean to watch them drown.

But there was nothing he could do now. He’d already tried to run, resulting in him being watched at all times and it was already decided that he would remain bound during the celebration, to avoid him becoming lost in the crowd and slipping away. Simply put, he was fucked.

It was times like these he regretted not getting his cherry popped when he had the chance. He couldn’t be the Maiden if he wasn’t in fact a maiden. But no, he had refused every guy that came his way. They had all wanted him to be a housewife, to have and raise their children, and just in general wanted him to be a woman to suit their needs. He had never been interested in those things and didn’t care who knew it.

So there was only really three thing he could do with what time he had left. The first was what he did best, he was going to get so drunk that he hopefully wouldn’t even notice once he was being thrown into the ocean. The second was that he planned to tell every piece of shit at his “wedding ceremony” _exactly_ what he thought of them. And the third… well it wasn’t quite as sensible.

He had decided that he was going to stab a god. It hadn’t been easy but he’d managed to stash a switchblade in his cleavage. There was no delusion in his mind that he could actually kill a god with a shitty little knife but, in theory, he hoped he could piss him off enough that he might decimate the entire town and he’d consider that enough of a victory.

Now he just had to wait to see if this god was actually real.

The celebration became a blur. Pickles had a drink in his hand the entire night and refused to let anyone stop him from drinking. What were they going to do? It was his wedding night, he could get a sloshed as he wanted.

Once or twice he attempted to seduce a few of the men that he had once turned down. Tony had been interested and they might have gone all the way had Pickles father not caught them and dragged him away. He could vaguely see a group of men ganging up on Tony before he was ushered to a more public place; Pickles knew he would punished for attempting to “deflower the Maiden” but he couldn’t help but curse his rotten luck a little more than the beating Tony was about to get.

At some point in the night, while everyone was making toasts and wishing Pickles a happy marriage, he stood up on wobbly legs, one of which was quite literally chained to his chair to keep him from running off, and in a drunken slur he spoke every bitter thing he’d ever wanted to say. How much he hated his parents, what a leach for bother was and how much of a whore his wife was, how fucking creepy the Tribunal was, and how stupid they all were for thinking any of the women in their town would ever be good enough for a god to take as his bride. He was practically carried away, still giving his speech about how much he hated all of them.

Technically speaking, they normally waited until midnight to before they sacrificed the Maiden and it had only been a few hours sense sundown but Pickles had been far too grating to wait any longer.

Pickles hadn’t known exactly how the sacrifice worked. He had thought his family would be there to see him go, had hoped he could shout one last “fuck you” before they shoved him off the cliff but they hadn’t been allowed to come. It was just him and the collection of creepy old men that made up the Tribunal standing on the edge the cliff face. They said very little to him, didn’t bother to scold him for his words, simply spoke a prayer in a language he didn’t know and flicked some sort of holy oils on him.

They positioned him at the cliff’s edge and cut free his hands and unchained his ankle. They didn’t fear him running, there were too many of them to possibly escape. Why even bother? A cold wind whipped around him and he looked down to see the waves crashing against the rocks below, suddenly he felt much too sober. Could he even survive such a fall?

A gravely voice spoke. “He is below.” The tall, old man who lead the Tribunal stood beside him, his hand gently places on his back as though threatening to push at any moment. “He waits for his bride.”

“He not waiting for me.” Pickles told him plainly. “I’m not a girl, I’ve never been a girl, and I’m not gonna be his bride. I’m gonna wash up on shore like every other bitch you’ve ever pushed off this cliff.”

The old man paused for a moment and made a sound as though he were truly thinking about this before at last he spoke. “Perhaps.”

With not another word spoken the man gave a powerful shove and Pickles was tumbling off the cliff towards the water below. He felt tears in his eyes as the wind blew every which way, there was no scream as he feel, he was almost too terrified to let any kind of sound escape his lungs. The water rushed to meet him and he tried to make his body as small as possible as he made impact.

It was cold and felt as though he were being pierced by knives. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and he scrambled to the surface for air. He managed only a single gasp before a wave rolled over him and he was pushed back under the surface. He was tossed by the current, struggling to figure out which way was up, each time he managed to breach he would only get a small breath before being dragged back until.

He didn’t know why he was bothering to struggle. There was no point, no beach for him to swim his way too, only a sheer cliff face and jagged rocks that the waves were continually slamming into and even that the current was pulling him away from.

One last time he tried to breach the surface, tried to hold onto some form of hope that he could save himself but before he could make it, a firm grip clasped around his leg and he was pulled downward, away from safety. Pickles looked to see what was hold him and lost the last of his air as he a screamed.

Before that night, he hadn’t been sure the sea god was even real but in front of him then was all the proof he needed. Eyes completely black and unreadable, skin ashen pale like the bodies of the many waterlogged Maidens who had washed ashore. A curtain of long dark hair flowed all around it as though it were a dark cloud, it’s neck lined with gills that seemed to frill in curiosity as it looked him over. It’s body was naked and massive compared to Pickles’ much smaller form, covered in scars both old and new and markings scrawled across it’s skin in languages unknown. It’s hands were webbed and ended in claws that dug into his flesh as it pulled him further downward, mouth opening wide to reveal multiple rows of jagged teeth.

No words needed to be said, Pickles knew in an instant that this thing was not there for a bride, it was there for a meal just as it had been every time before. Fear for his life and a burning need for air pumped adrenaline through his veins and he dug he hands into his dress for his switchblade. He genuinely didn’t know if the blade would even do anything to the creature but he swung downward and buried it into one of it’s gills.

The snarl that came for the creature was the stuff or nightmares. Feral and hateful, echoing and causing ripples throughout the sea and in an instant the entire ocean’s current had stopped entirely.

Pickles’ leg was let go as the beast gripped at the knife in it’s neck and in an instant he was bolting to the surface all over again. The sudden stop of the waves made it much easier to breach and at last he was able to take a long breath of air but he knew he couldn’t stay in one spot, the beast surely wouldn’t be occupied with removing the blade very long.

With a struggle he made his way to the face of the cliff. Closer to the cliff were rocks that jutted out of the water that he could climb upon, they were shape but it was the best option he had. It wasn’t surprising that he scraped him arms and legs as he scrambled to the top of one but he hoped that being out of the water would give him some sort of advantage against the sea god that was now certainly after him.

He watched the water but saw nothing move in the darkness.

It was quiet for much too long as he waited for something to follow him to the surface. Surely the thing couldn’t be dead, there were far too many scars covering the thing for such a small knife to do the job. Eventually the current returned and in little time at all the waves became rough and angry all over again. Pickles gripped hold of the edge of the rock and prayed the waves wouldn’t toss him back into the water.

The sound of metal clattering against stone sent a chill through him. Beside him he looked to see his knife dropped or rather thrown from somewhere behind him. He turned slowly to see the beast towering over him, it’s neck covered in a green-black ichor that he could only assume was it’s blood. The both were still; Pickles too terrified to reach for the knife and certainly not dumb enough to go back into the creatures’ preferred territory and the sea god was seemingly waiting, daring him to fight back again.

After what felt like an eternity of the two simply staring each other down, the beast cracked first and lunged forward. Pickles dove for the knife and attempted to slash and stab anywhere vital but the beast had learned quickly. It pinned his arm down the moment the blade was in his hand and used it entire body to envelop him. He struggled but the creature’s vice grip was much too powerful to pull free, he tried to kick but found his legs entirely immobile.

With all else failed, the only thing Pickles could do to fight back tears was to scream at the beast on top of him. He let out a loud, angry bellow, followed by a string of profanity and part of him hoped the beast understood at least some of what he was saying. Of all the things he expected to come from this, the beast rearing back was not one of them. Not enough for Pickles to free himself but enough for him to realize the beast was looking him over.

And then the sea god was screaming as well. Mimicking his cry of rage, copying his every sound though not quite speaking the word. They screamed together, guttural and loud and the longer it went the less it felt like a declaration of hatred and the more it felt as though they were harmonizing in some strange, feral song. He screamed until his throat was hoarse and when he couldn’t scream anymore he laid his head back against the stone, panting and looking back at the beast still over top of him.

He waited for it to finally attack, to take a bite out of him and end his suffering but it didn’t do this.

It’s hands released Pickles arms, a look on it’s face, as though daring him to try to use the blade on him again. He grip it in his palm one last time and really thought about where he could stab to do the most damage before he finally tossed the blade away, into the water with a splash. There was no beating this beast, no point in trying.

The sea god let out a growl of approval before sitting back and looking over Pickles body. Webbed fingers ran up his wedding dress, it let out low growl before tearing away at it until his body was entirely exposed. The fabric was tossed away into the waves in scraps and when the webbed hands moved over his body a second time the beast ran a purple tongue that was much too long along his skin as well. Teeth grazed flesh but never biting, claws pushing against tender skin but never piercing.

Pickles gasped. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this kind of treatment from a thing that had been trying to kill not too long ago. Yet at the same time, if given the choice between fucking the sea god or being eaten, he’d have been a fool not to fuck the creature.

It seemed the creature understood his compliance because at last it freed his legs from how he had been pinned and positioned himself between them. Pickles let his legs spread out, if for no other reason them to make it easier on himself. Another approving growl was let out and the creature moved down.

Suddenly Pickles felt like he was singing again as the creature’s tongue went to work. It was slimy but warm, running over his most sensitive places with enthusiasm before plunging the long tongue inside of him. It moved in an unnatural way and he couldn’t help but bury his hands in it’s long dark hair to urge it onward. He came with a shout of bliss and part of him hoped the Tribunal was still up there at the top of the cliff because someone should get to hear what an amazing job this creature was doing to him.

The tongue squirmed just a little bit longer before it pulled back and positioned itself over top of Pickles again. He had a pretty good idea of what came next and if he was being completely honest, he wasn’t really afraid anymore. That is until he looked down and saw just how massive the beast was.

“Holy shit.” Was all he could gasp out before the creature thrust into him.

It was big, unnaturally so, though he supposed that shouldn’t have been surprising given that everything about the beast was unnaturally large. Even still being wet from the beast’s tongue, the intrusion was still difficult to adjust to. He dug his nails into the beast’s back and cried out with every thrust, nails digging deeper the harder it thrust. As it went on, the pain dulled and a warmth grew in his belly, both becoming better then before but also so overwhelming.

It didn’t take terribly long for the beast to finish but it also felt like the thrusts would go on for an eternity. By then Pickles had wrapped himself around the creature and was screaming all over again, chanting profanity and words of praising alike. Finally it finished deep inside of him, giving a few more powerful thrusts, as though to be sure it was all out. At last it slumped over his body, panting and satisfied.

When it finally pulled out, it left Pickles feeling raw and vaguely violated yet also exhilarated and in sheer bliss. He fairly sure he could lay in the afterglow for hours if the creature would have allowed him.

And for a few moments they stayed like that, until the sea god pulled back and looked Pickles over once more. He must have looked a mess, drenched is salt water, the braid now completely ruined from being tossed about by the wind and the ocean, dotted with cuts and bruises, and covered in a number of strange fluids from being thoroughly fucked by this creature. If it cared about any of these things, it didn’t show it.

It seemed to really be considering something before at last it’s clawed hands moved to it’s own throat. The green-black ichor was still smeared all over the skin of it’s neck, enough that it coated the beast’s fingers in the strange goo. 

Gently it brought those fingers to Pickles throat. Slowly it dragged the ichor across his flesh, the feeling was strange, almost burning against the skin but not entirely painful. It took him a moment to realize that it was mimicking the placement of it’s own gills. He let himself smile, thinking it was some odd way for the beast to show affection, that is until it suddenly dug it’s nails deep into the lines of ichor it had just drawn.

In shock he struggled, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He tried to bring his hands up to the wounds, tried to stop the bleeding however he could but the creature grabbed and pinned his hands down the moment he tried to do so. A feeling of utter betrayal washed over him as he looked back up at the beast that he realized he shouldn’t have trusted to begin with.

Everything felt like it was growing fuzzy and his entire body felt heavy. He needed air, needed to get away but there was nowhere he could run and no one to help him.

Mind still clouded, he was vaguely aware of the beast lifted his tired body and walked him into the sea, all the while he thrashed and struggled for air. He was compelled to keep his head above water but the beast held him firm and he was at last fully submerged. Salt water burned against his open wounds and filled his lungs but too his shock, with it came air and he gasped and desperately held onto the beast for any kind of support.

Slowly his heart settled down and he let his hands move neck. The creature didn’t stop him this time, simply let his hands wander until they brushed against the open flaps on his neck that seemed to move independently with each breath he took. It dawned on him, perhaps too slowly, that through some magic he didn’t entirely understand, the sea god had given him gills.

He looked to the creature that was still holding him in the water and understood to some degree that it planned to keep him. He supposed that meant he really had married the creature. Or perhaps it was more appropriate to say he belong to it now.

It all felt too much for him. He was too tired to consider fighting anymore, instead he wrapped his arm around the creature and buried his face in it’s chest, at last letting himself rest from his exhaustion. The current moved around them and he felt them being carried away to some unknown place.

What kind of place did such a creature even live?

He supposed he would find out soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I've never done before?
> 
> Write porn.
> 
> You know what I've yet to do?
> 
> Write good porn.
> 
> I don't know what happened, this was going to be an entirely different fic with some pantheon ideas and it just sorta devolved the more I drank. I, much like Nathan, should not be allowed tequila.
> 
> I'm not sure if I should add more tags or not. I don't know, I'll add more if someone suggests I should.


End file.
